


Waiting Is The Hardest Part

by somehowunbroken



Series: Virus'verse [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-10
Updated: 2010-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Nobody was quite sure what to do about Michael Kenmore.' Part three of the Virus'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting Is The Hardest Part

Previously:  
_A day passed, a week, two; the Wraith became a man, and as the team watched with bated breath, was transferred from the cell to the infirmary, hooked up to machine after machine. Finally, thirty-three days after he'd been put under, Carson reversed the medical coma and the man blinked._

"_Hello, son," Carson said kindly, shining a light into one eye, then the other. "How are you feeling?"_

"_Okay," the man said, and Evan watched as Carson handed him a glass of water. "Where-"_

"_You're in our infirmary," Carson explained. "We – found you. You were very sick." He hesitated. "What's your name, lad?"_  
_  
The man set down the glass of water and looked up at Carson. "Michael," he replied. "Michael Kenmore."_

-0-

Nobody was quite sure what to do about Michael Kenmore.

There were, John evaluated, two real issues with Michael. One was the fact that he had been a Wraith – okay, yeah, so he didn't remember it, but he'd been a Wraith. He was convinced that he was some sort of amnesiac, and that Carson and John and Evan (and the rest of the Lanteans by extension) were his rescuers. But he had been a Wraith, and even now that he was human again, nobody really trusted him.

This was related to the second issue, which was that nobody had exactly revealed the existence of the Wraith to Michael yet. A lot of the people who were infected became so because they wanted to, chose to trade their humanity for power and near-invulnerability, and since Michael didn't know anything about the Wraith, they couldn't be sure that he wouldn't go running right back and get himself turned again as soon as he found out.

The first time they'd realized how sticky the situation was going to be was right after Ford died. John had stopped in Michael's room; it had become sort of a habit of his while Michael was still in a coma, stopping by to check on the progress of their little experiment. It continued even after Michael woke up, and John had a little bit of a conversation with him each day. It was two days after Ford died that Michael brought it up.

"I'm sorry about your friend."

John hesitated. "Thanks," he said finally. "He was – a good kid."

"Was he sick long?" Michael asked, and John debated what to say, how to say it, without revealing anything.

"Two months, give or take," he replied. "He had the same thing you had, but the medicine was – it doesn't work for everyone."

Michael nodded, looking sad. "I guess I'm lucky then, huh?"

John left not long after.

-0-

Evan was going to kill John, and he was going to do it slowly, preferably in a manner that involved dull grapefruit spoons and the application of duct tape.  
_  
John!_ he called mentally again, fingers firmly around the stone in his pocket. _What the fuck, Sheppard, where the bleeding hell could you possibly have gone?_  
_  
Evan?_ John's voice came back, confused. _I'm in my quarters._

Evan turned back abruptly, going the way he'd come. He had just _been_ at John's quarters, and John hadn't answered the door. He also hadn't been in the gym, the commissary, their offices, the infirmary, the garage, the science wing…

Evan opened John's door and blinked. His friend was sitting, hair dripping, on the bed, wearing only a pair of boxers. "Oh."

"You were looking for me?" John asked. "Sorry, I don't take the stone in the shower."

Evan remembered his ire and narrowed his eyes. "What the fuck, Sheppard?"

John blinked. "Do you shower with yours?" he asked, drawling. "If so, Evan, we need to talk-"

Evan cut him off. "You're not supposed to go there," he growled. "You're especially not supposed to go _alone._"

John winced. "You weren't supposed to find out. It was fine," he insisted, seeing Evan's look darken even more. "There wasn't really even any danger. Nobody saw me."

"Sheer fucking luck," Evan retorted. "They see you now, we have to go back to square one. This plan is all we've got. We've been working on it for _months_. Do you not understand that?"

John narrowed his eyes. "I'm aware of that, Evan. I was trying to figure out the best way to-"

"That's why we have the teams!" Evan threw his hands in the air. "For recon shit! So you don't get made before you're even in position!"

John sat back on the bed. "Evan, look, I was over near there anyway, and I had an idea, so I just stopped by to check it out."

"You want to know how I know?" Evan said by way of reply. "James and Adam made you, Sheppard. _James_ and _Adam_."

John winced again. James and Adam were good kids, but they weren't military, hadn't had specialized training. Apparently John had thought he was being more careful. Evan spoke again.

"Will you promise me you'll stay away from there until we're ready?"

John looked up at Evan, a calculating look on his face. "Fine."

"I mean it, John," Evan said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You know, if they see you, I'm gonna have to go in. Which is fine, I'll do it, but we've already got you set up and it'll be months before we can get me to where you are."

"I said fine," John repeated. "I'll stay away."

Evan gave him a long-suffering glare. "Don't make me ask Ronon to shadow you," he threatened, and John's face broke into a grin. "Because I will."

"He would be the world's crankiest shadow," John remarked. "He hates babysitting detail."

Evan nodded solemnly. "That's why I'd pick him. He would make your life a living hell."

John reached out his foot and kicked Evan lightly. "We good?" he asked, and Evan nodded again. "Okay. Then I'm gonna get dressed and find some food. Hungry?"

-0-

John decided he was going to have to add a third thing to the list he was keeping about Issues With Michael. He didn't know what they were going to do with him.

Michael was fully human again, and had been on bed rest for long enough that he was completely healed. Carson had hinted that he wanted to let him out of the infirmary but John had hedged, citing the need to talk it through with Evan before they made a choice.

So now, here he was, hiding in his office and decidedly not talking to Evan.

"John?"

Scratch that. Hiding in his office, at least.

"Carson wants to let him out," John said as Evan took a seat. "Michael."

Evan sighed. "We knew he'd have to leave the infirmary eventually, John."

Yeah," John agreed. He'd known it in theory, in abstract, but it was suddenly staring him in the face, and he wasn't sure what to do with it. "I don't know."

Evan picked a pen off of John's desk and twirled it idly in his hands. "We might be able to use him."

"Yeah," John repeated. He'd thought about that, too. "It's dangerous, though."

"What else is new?"

John had to concede the point. "If he was a recruit, he might go back to them the second he figures it out."

Evan nodded. "And if he wasn't, he could be a pretty valuable asset." He put the pen down. "If he was turned against his will, then he's got even more of a reason to fight the Wraith more than some of the people we've got here."

John sighed, voicing the thought that had been bugging him. "I think he was a recruit."

"Why?" Evan raised an eyebrow. "I mean, other than the statistical probability."

"Remember how Ford was, even at the end?" John couldn't look Evan in the eye. It was hard for either of them to talk about Ford, harder for them to see the pain mirrored in each other's expressions as they did so. "He was still… himself. He had the ability to rationalize, to make decisions. He was still human underneath it all." John risked a glance at Evan and saw him looking thoughtful. "Michael… wasn't."

"No," Evan agreed. "He was completely Wraith. But there might be other reasons for that."

It was John's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"We don't know what the long-term effects of the virus are, and we don't know when he was infected. It could just get stronger as it goes." Evan absently picked the pen back up. "Maybe he was unwilling at first, but got tired of fighting it. Maybe he got a bigger dose than Ford did. Or maybe the virus makes you give in after a while."

"Ford was still Ford," John argued.

"Yeah," Evan nodded, "but he had more willpower than any two other people. He was stubborn as hell, John, and he wouldn't do anything that he thought might disappoint you." Evan held a hand up at John's look. "He would've licked the ground you walked on, and you know it."

"Look where it got him," John sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hand.

"Don't," Evan said mildly. "It could have something to do with his ATA therapy, too."

"Carson said there wasn't enough left in him to affect the change."

"Carson's guessing," Evan pointed out. "It's not like he can be positive, John. There's nothing to compare it to. Ford still turned, but maybe he had enough of the gene left in him that it changed the virus somehow, made it affect him differently. The point is, we don't know."

"That's part of the problem," John reasoned. "We don't know how Michael became a Wraith. And even if he wasn't willing the first time, who's to say that he didn't like it, wouldn't want to go back?"

Evan shook his head. "He doesn't remember being a Wraith. He can't remember liking it or hating it."

John blew out a frustrated breath. "I feel like we should just flip a damn coin," he groused. "We're just talking in circles here."

Evan gave a small laugh. "Well, however we do it, we need to come to a decision soon. We can't keep him in the infirmary forever."

-0-

Much to Evan's relief, no coin flipping was needed. They'd come to an agreement of sorts; Michael was assigned quarters between John and Ronon, and Evan had McKay and Zelenka wire the room for surveillance as stealthily as they could (which was, as they both pointed out, _incredibly stealthily_). By way of rotation, Michael was almost always accompanied, and he checked back in with Carson twice a day.

Atlantis held its collective breath for a week, then two. Things slowly returned to normal; at least, as normal as Atlantis ever was. The rotation schedule was scaled back when it became obvious that Michael wasn't going to spontaneously turn back into a Wraith or attack them all in their sleep. Carson made check-ins once a day, then once every other. Evan kept the security cameras in Michael's room, though.

"What is it that you guys do here, anyway?" Michael asked sometime in the third week he was out of the infirmary. "Dr. Beckett said you're some kind of research facility."

"That's true," Evan allowed. "We're doing a lot of stuff that's… pretty classified."

Michael frowned. "Classified how? You're not military."

He was observant, Evan would give him that. He tried a grin. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Michael rolled his eyes. "And then you'd have wasted all that experimental drug therapy you gave me," he said mockingly, and Evan thought _shit fuck damn it_ for a split second before he saw Michael's grin and relaxed.

"Yeah, it would be a real waste," Evan agreed, leaning back in his chair.

"So are you in charge here, or is John?"

Evan frowned. "Neither of us. And both of us. It's a little complicated."

Michael laughed. "Apparently." He paused. "Is there something I can do? Help out? I mean, I don't have any sort of security clearance that I know about, but I can make some mean hash browns."

Evan grinned at him. "I'll talk to John about it," he said. The smile slipped form his face as he contemplated the man in front of him thoughtfully. "You don't want to go home? See your family?"

"You'd let me go?" Michael laughed sharply, and again Evan was forced to admit the other man's intelligence. "Sorry. That's not fair. To be honest, I don't really have much family. The ones I have left probably don't even know I've been missing. I didn't leave much behind when I…" he hesitated. "Got sick."

"Sorry," Evan offered. "I didn't know."

Michael leaned back in his chair. "Now you do," he said simply. "So you'll talk to John about putting me in some sort of rotation? After all, you guys saved my life. The least I can do is sling slop or clean the bathroom floors."

-0-

"I'm just saying that I don't think it's really the best use of our resources to send me into the field!"

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rodney-"

"Don't you 'Rodney' me, Sheppard. This is a waste of my time and yours Have Zelenka do it."

"Radek went last time," John explained again. "And the time before that. He's also working on something right now, Rodney, so you're going to have to go."

"Send someone else," Rodney insisted grumpily. "Send Markham."

"You're going."

"Stackhouse."

"You're going."

"Markham _and_ Stackhouse."

"Rodney…"

"Fine!" Rodney snapped, throwing up his hands. "Send me into the field, let some Wraith turn me, then you'll see how much better off we would all have been if you had just let me stay in my lab!"

"Okay," John said cheerily, handing Rodney a sidearm and holster. "You're ATA-positive, Rodney, so at least you know that if they get you the worst that'll happen is you'll get a little sick."

"I bet I'm allergic to the virus," Rodney complained, letting John check his holster. "Do you think I should bring my Epipen? Well, not that I wouldn't bring it anyway, because I don't go anywhere without it, you never knew when someone will put some sort of citrus in your food-"

"If you get stabbed," John said seriously, "go ahead and use it. Just in case they used the knife to cut a lemon open or something."

"Fuck you," Rodney spat, and he walked out of the room.

John let the smile flare on his face as his friend left but felt it quickly fade away. He didn't blame Rodney for not wanting to go on the recon mission, but Radek had done the last two, and had begged John for a few days' peace to work on something that John hadn't been able to understand, between the science-speak and the fact that Zelenka still slipped into Czech when he got excited about something,

John wished that he didn't have to put his friends through this. Sure, he could smile when Rodney complained about the possibility of getting turned, but John was pretty sure that none of the other Lanteans knew how very much John was afraid of exactly that.

"They'll be fine."

Except, of course, for Evan.

"I know," John said, staring out the door. "Rodney, Laura, and Teyla."

Evan stared at him. "Okay, so maybe Cadman will kill McKay and he won't be fine. Seriously, John, why the fuck would you send those two out together?"

"She won't kill him," John protested. "Honestly, I think he has a thing for her."

"A thing," Evan repeated, disbelieving. "You're setting them up on some sort of blind date? Do they know?"

"No," John said. "Don't tell them. Let me have my fun."

"You are insane," Evan muttered, but he was smiling. "At least you sent Teyla with them. They'll all come back alive. Probably."

They all did, three hours later, with more information to add to their ever-growing data stores. The Lanteans were gaining ground against the cell. It was slow work, but they had a lot to show for it. John knew that it would all come together soon, that he would be able to get in and do what he came here to do. To destroy the cell.

At the very least, he owed it to Ford.

-0-

John poked his head into Evan's office. "Got a minute?"

Evan looked up from the charts he was studying. "Sure," he offered, jerking his head at the chair.

"You shouldn't go tomorrow," John said bluntly, swinging the chair around to sit on it backwards. He leaned it forward onto two legs, tipping it towards Evan. "You shouldn't be doing recon."

Evan sighed. "John, I can't be turned," he said patiently. "And I can-"

"-take care of yourself, I know. Not the point." John tilted his head. "You're the insurance, remember? If something goes wrong and I can't go in, you're the backup plan. You can't get made, either."

Evan hadn't considered that, not really, because if John got made they were going to be dealing with a hell of a lot more than just finding someone else to go in. "John-"

"I'm warning you now, Evan. I'm going to be really, really stubborn on this one."

"I'm already scheduled to go out tomorrow," Evan said practically. "We can talk about it more when I get back."

"I've already switched you out for Ronon," john replied easily, ignoring the dark look Evan was shooting him rather effectively. "Look, Evan, if the situations were reversed, you would already have had me swearing on a stack of Bibles that I wouldn't go, in case you got made and I had to go instead."

"That's because you're out of your goddamned mind," Evan informed him, exasperated. "Look, John, it's ridiculous to keep us both here."

"It's ridiculous to keep either one of us here," John muttered, but Evan kept going.

"We should have at least one of us in the field. You and I are the only ones who know all of what's supposed to go down, so it makes sense for one of us to be checking out the details."

"No," John replied. "It doesn't make sense for either of us to risk getting made by the cell. This plan's already held together with duct tape and hope, Evan. We only have one backup plan, and even that's pretty much a complete fucking long shot. Let's not jinx this any further, huh?"

John had, at least, been honest when he said he'd be difficult about this. "Fine," Evan said. Sometimes it was easier to just give in to John, and honestly, Evan could see his point. He believed his own, as well, and that would be a bridge they'd have to cross later on, but for now, he could let John have this one. "I'll stay home."

"Do I have to threaten you with Ronon, too?' John teased, setting the chair back on the ground. Evan rolled his eyes.

"If you and I are both out of rotation, he's not going to be available for babysitting duties," he pointed out. John grinned.

"Oh, he's gonna be so upset, I can just tell."

-0-

"They're called Wraith."

John watched carefully from the wrong side of the tinted glass. He should be in there, damn it, helping Evan and Carson explain this, but it had been decided that John's presence and occasional loss of temper regarding the Wraith would probably do more harm than good, so he was exiled to watch.

Michael stared at the pictures laid out on the table. He picked each one up in turn and studied it, eyes roaming over the pictures, taking in little details quickly and efficiently. Nobody said a word as he worked his way through the spread. It took him ten minutes to visit each one twice, and when he finally looked up, he was clenching a picture of Ellia.

"What are they?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion. "Are they – human?"

"Yes and no," Carson said. He slid his eyes to Evan. They'd talked about this, all three of them – exactly how much to tell Michael, how to say it, when to reveal all the dirty little details. They all agreed it was probably best that they didn't bring it all out in the open at once, but John knew how smart Michael was, how good he was at fitting what he heard with what he knew wasn't said, and he had a bad feeling in his gut about this whole thing.

In the room, Michael's eyes were trained on Carson. "How so?" he asked.

"Wraith start out as people, same as anyone here," Evan took over. "There's a drug. A virus. When a human takes it, it makes them into…" He spread his hands, indicating the pictures. "That."

"Why would someone want to turn into _that_?" Michael's voice was incredulous.

"They are very strong," Carson said. "Very difficult to – they don't get sick, and they heal very rapidly."

"It's hard to kill them," Michael translated, and Carson winced even as Evan nodded. "And that's what you do here, what you're researching. These Wraith."

"Pretty much," Evan agreed. "There's a group of them here in Vegas, a cell. We're trying to shut them down."

"Kill them," Michael said flatly.

"Cure them," Evan contradicted. "We've developed a drug of our own, a retrovirus of sorts." He hesitated, and John could see the gears working in Evan's head.  
_  
Don't,_ John warned, his fingers tightly clutching the communication stone. Evan's eyes jerked to the glass and narrowed slightly before he turned back to Michael, but he didn't say anything further. John let out a sigh of relief.

"Cure them," Michael repeated, sifting through the photographs again. They had purposely not included a picture of his former self, though they had plenty. Nobody knew why Michael didn't remember being a Wraith, but none of them wanted to trigger a sudden resurgence of memories.

"Aye," Carson agreed. "We've also developed a kind of immunization against the original virus, though both are far from perfect." His face darkened, and John could see the image of Ford hanging over Carson's head, haunting him day in and day out.

"Huh," Michael said, and now John focused on him – the slight crinkling frown that indicated his mind at work, the pictures he seemed to be sorting into piles, the way his mouth was moving without making sounds. John watched the pieces click into place.

"You found me," Michael said a few minutes later. "I was – sick."

Evan nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Will you…" Michael's eyes closed and he looked like he was trying to make a hefty decision very quickly. "If I ask, will you tell me?"

"We're not here to lie to you, son," Carson replied. It was another thing they had discussed – if Michael asked them outright, they would tell him the truth.

Michael nodded. "I'm not sure I want to know," he said after a minute. "I'll – give me some time. Can I just – think about all this?" He waved his hands at the pictures again, now sorted neatly into two piles.

"Of course," Carson said, standing and heading for the exit. Evan sat for a moment longer, waiting until the door shut behind Carson before he spoke again.

"Michael," he said, and Michael looked up. "The Wraith – not all of them chose to become like this. Sometimes they attack other people, try to turn them by force." Evan hesitated and his eyes flicked to John's again, and John clenched the stone in his hand.  
_  
Go for it._

"They tried to force John into it," Evan said softly, and John's mind raced back to the knife, to Irina, to the scar he would carry for the rest of his life, to the sheer dumb luck of having an extra sequence in his DNA that would keep him from being infected. "It's not always a choice."

Michael nodded, but John could see that none of the tension had left his frame. Evan gestured to the piles.

"Why two piles?" he asked, and Michael frowned down at them.

"I just…" he hesitated, and Evan waited. "These ones seem familiar somehow," he said finally, tapping the pile on the right. "I don't know their names or anything, but I feel like I might have seen them before."

Evan gripped his stone casually as he flipped through the pictures, and they flashed across John's mind. Every Wraith in that pile was in the Vegas cell.

Fuck.

Evan got up and left a few moments later, leaving the pictures with Michael, who started to look through them again. He scrutinized each photograph for long minutes, sometimes jotting words on the back of one, sometimes passing over another, and John stayed behind the glass, observing the entire thing.

John knew that he'd figured it out. Michael knew.

-0-

Evan heard John's cell phone ring and picked it up off his desk. He walked to the door; John had run to the commissary for some coffee, and had, apparently left his phone, which he was supposed to have with him at all times. Evan sighed and glanced at the caller ID and walked two steps before his brain caught up with the information. He looked at the display again, noting he number, and flipped it open.

"This is Lorne," he said into it, but all he heard from the other end was a babbled stream of words he couldn't understand, punctuated at times by _kurva_ and _do pice_ and, occasionally, the low rumble of Ronon's voice in the background.

"Radek," Evan snapped. "English. Or give the phone to Adam."

Radek's voice increased in pitch, and the Czech was suddenly peppered with more words Evan could understand, some in English and others Czech that became more pronounced. Evan reached for his stone and concentrated on John in his head, trying to let him hear what was going on, or at least get the idea that something was wrong.

Ronon's voice came over the phone as Radek's babbling moved to the background. "Sheppard," he grunted.

"Lorne," Evan identified, already running to the garage. "The fuck?"

"Get the doc and meet us in the garage," Ronon said. "Three minutes, tops."

Evan clicked the phone shut and thought _garage_ as he ran there himself, already dialing Carson's extension. He explained the situation succinctly – "Carson! Med kit, garage, now!" – as he skidded in the bay and threw the switch for the door. Ronon came peeling around the corner seconds later.

"What's up?" John yelled across the garage as he ran in from the other entrance. Evan shook his head, already heading for the van. He threw the back door open and heard Radek's babbling before his eyes adjusted. "What's he saying?" John asked, panting, much closer now.

Evan shook his head and leaned in to pull Radek out of the vehicle. "The only words I recognize are telling me that something got fucked up." As Radek moved from his place, Evan saw Adam curled up on the floor of the van, his arms around his chest and his eyes closed. There was a slice in his shirt, over his heart, and Evan could hear John spitting out curses even as he climbed into the van.

Evan grabbed Adam's face and leaned close. "Adam," he said clearly, holding his chin. Adam's eyes opened and searched around above him before focusing on Evan's face. "Adam. Hey. Come on, buddy."

"I'll be – fine," Adam gasped. "Just had – the booster. Two days."

Evan nodded. "Okay, kid, try to stay conscious, okay?" He heard Carson's voice across the bay and moved to the side as the doctor climbed into the back of the van and started a cheery dialogue with Adam as he rolled up the young man's sleeve. Carson kept talking as he filled a syringe with translucent pink liquid and inserted it into Adam's arm, chatting even as Adam hissed at the feel of the cold liquid in his veins.

"Sorry, lad," Carson said, signaling to someone outside the van, and a gurney appeared. Carson backed out of the van, tugging on Evan's arm until he left as well. "Ronon, could you – ah, thanks," he said as Ronon ducked into the van and swept Adam onto the gurney. "We'll have you well again in no time," Carson promised as the gurney was rolled away.

Evan turned back to the van as Carson, Adam, and James, who was pushing the gurney, disappeared into Atlantis. Ronon was leaning against its side, and seemed to have been waiting for Evan to turn, because he launched into his explanation right away.

"Found a group of 'em," he said. "About half a klick from the main compound. We were following, tailing 'em, and they went to this house, went inside. We got out and took up positions to observe."

"Is my fault," Radek said, distress obvious. His English broke as he spoke. "I was not careful. The _královna_ – she find and she come, and the knife, it drips." Radek shuddered. "Adam, he push me, but _královna_, she cut him."

"I shot at her," Ronon picked up. "She ran, and we loaded him up and got him back here." He paused. "I guess this is the first real test of the doc's gene thing, huh?"

"And the retrovirus," McKay piped up from where he was trying to calm Radek down. "Zelenka, he's going to be fine. Between Carson's voodoo prevention and voodoo cure, Stackhouse will be back to saving your ass in two days. Three, tops."

"Is my fault," Radek mumbled again. He looked distraught.

"Radek," Evan said firmly, and the scientist looked at him. "This _královna _– that's queen?"

The scientist flushed. "Yes, queen," he replied, ducking his head. "I am sorry. When I have stress, I forget sometimes."

Evan shook his head. "It's her fault, Radek. You didn't stab him, right?" He paused, grinning, trying to lighten the mood. "Unless, of course, you did," he teased, and was rewarded with a small smile. "Right. Go write up your reports." The team dispersed, some more quickly than others, until only John and Evan remained by the van.

"Well, fuck," John said, taking a deep breath.

"Pretty much," Evan agreed. "He's going to be fine, John. It's not like it was with Ford."

"I know that," John said absently, string at the wall. "But knowing it logically and believing it are two entirely different things."

Evan was silent for a minute. "Coffee?" he said after a little while, hoping to distract John, who nodded and started walking towards the door. He stopped in his tracks a second later, and Evan plowed right into him. He steadied himself and stepped to the side.  
Michael was leaning against the wall of the garage, his face troubled.

"He had a cut," Michael said, raising his hand to his chest. Evan nodded and waited; John tensed. Michael suddenly reached down and yanked his shirt up, exposing his chest. "Does he have one of these?"

The pink line ran down over his heart, and the blue lines extended out from the center.

John reached slowly for the hem of his own shirt and lifted it as well. Michael let his shirt drop as he stepped closer. After a moment, he raised his eyes to John's, and John nodded.

Michael closed his eyes. "I was one of them," he said, and as it had been when he first heard of the Wraith in Atlantis, his voice was completely flat.

"Yeah," Evan said.

"You cured me."

"Yeah," John replied.

"Why?"

"Would you rather we had killed you?" John asked dryly, and Evan smacked him on the arm. John ignored him. "We told you before, Michael. We're out for the cell. We're trying to cure them, but if they won't take the meds, they'll take the bullets." He shrugged. "For what it's worth, I'd rather fix it with the retrovirus than a gun." He brushed past Michael and headed in the direction of the commissary. Evan stayed back.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked. Michael took a breath and nodded. "I'm sure you have questions," Evan continued. "Come have some coffee with us. We'll explain what we can."

-0-John was planning.

Well, to be more accurate, John was doing his best to plan. He sucked at planning. Planning was Evan's thing, but Evan was in the infirmary with Adam, so John was in his office. Planning.

He blew out a frustrated sigh and scowled at the papers on his desk. They had all the information they needed; at least, they had everything they were going to get before he went in. They had locations, numbers, transit details, schedules, and had even managed to grab a few names out of the mix – no major players, but it was good to know even a few grunts' names.

John was debating whether or not it would be considered childish to stick his tongue out at the mess on his desk if nobody was there to see it when he heard a knock at the door. He glanced up and found Michael hovering in the hallway.

"Come in," John said, pushing out a chair with his foot. "I'm drowning in paperwork."

Michael sat in the chair and glanced at John's papers. He pulled out a picture – one of the Wraith higher-ups, someone who seemed to be close to the top. He was big, and John for some reason thought he looked familiar, though he couldn't quite place him. Evan had written _identify _on the bottom in black marker, as if they needed the reminder.

"I want to help you guys fight," he said, playing with the picture idly. "There's – they must have forced me, John. There's no way I would want to be something that just hurts people."

John shifted back in his chair. "Well, normally I'd say we could use all the help we can get, but I think you'll understand when I say that I'll have to talk to Evan about anything more involved than kitchen duty."

Michael nodded, looking at the picture in his hands but not really focusing on it. "I know you don't trust me," he said finally.

"It's not that," John said quickly, then frowned. "Well, it _is_ that, but it's nothing personal."

"It's because I don't remember being turned," Michael said, and John once again recalled how intelligent the man was. "Because I have these little snippets of the last two years of my life, but almost none of it is helpful. Because you're not sure that I won't join up again if I get near them."

"You have to admit, they're valid concerns," John pointed out.

Michael nodded. He tossed the picture down on the table and tapped _identify_. "Bob."

John blinked. "Pardon?"

"His name. Bob. He came to the cell about a year ago, maybe a little more. He was part of some sort of cell in Colorado, but their queen was killed." Michael looked at John, who was staring at the picture intently, remembering being strapped to a chair, Irina telling him that she wanted him to _writhe and moan and beg_, a broad-shouldered Wraith stepping in and talking to her when she was ready to kill him with her bare hands, Irina returning with the knife.

Freakshow. Irina's Freakshow. He was here, in Vegas, and he was part of the new cell. To top it all off, apparently his name was Bob.  
Shit, John decided, was weird.

"Bob," he managed, pulling Evan's labeling marker from a cup on his desk and writing the name on the photograph. "Do Wraith use their real names, or is Bob some sort of pseudonym?"

Michael frowned. "I'm not sure. I – think they still called me by my name. Of course, I might be remembering wrong, and even if I'm not, that's not to say that everyone goes by their real name."

"Ah," John replied intelligently. "So this guy might or might not be Bob."

"Pretty much," Michael agreed. "But I do remember him pretty clearly. He's-" He paused. "He's not in charge of everything, but he's high in the command. I think – whatever I was doing for them, he was my supervisor, or something like that. I saw him a lot. That's probably why I remember him."

"Bob." John rolled the thought over in his brain. This was good intel.

If it was true. If they could trust Michael. John sighed and scowled at the papers on his desk again.

"What is it you're trying to do?" Michael asked, looking at the papers as well. "If you can tell me, that is," he added as John stayed silent.

"Trying to figure out how to get in," John said, deciding that Michael could, at least, know that, if he hadn't figured it out already. "We'd like to get as much intel as we can from the inside before we take them down. To do that, one of us needs to go in, and I'm the lucky bastard."

Michael smiled slowly. "Talk to Evan," he said, standing up in a fluid motion. "See if you guys will agree to let me help. If so, I have an idea."

-0-

Michael's idea was simple, and that was why it would work.

Unfortunately, Evan decided, he hated every single step, every detail, every fucking thought that made up this plan, but since they hadn't come up with anything better, this was _going_ to work.

John had come to talk to him after Michael had visited his office, holding one of their pictures, with his _identify_ now accompanied by John's _Bob._ He'd snorted at it, and John had rolled his eyes.

"If he was going to just make up a name, I'm sure he would've come up with something better than Bob," John had pointed out, and though Evan wasn't tempted to agree with him, the next words from his friend's mouth stilled him. "It's Freakshow."

Evan had grabbed the picture and studied it long and hard. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," John had said, not looking at the picture. "I thought I was going to have to make out with him, Evan, I'm pretty sure."

Evan had made a face. They had talked some more, and that had led them here, to Michael's plan.

Evan scowled at life in general. Michael had approached the clan two weeks before, making his presence known and sharing selected parts of his story. Most of it was heavily edited, of course, but there was enough truth in it to keep it stable. Michael was wired the entire time – "In case something goes wrong," Evan had said when placing the wire. Michael had just laughed and said, "So you can keep an eye on me" – but so far, things were going according to plan.

Michael's plan was, essentially, to reintegrate himself with the clan as a human. He would tell them of Atlantis and what they were doing, claim he'd been turned back against his will, and that he wanted to be re-Wraithified. He would tell them that he had a new recruit, someone else who wanted to be turned, and he would introduce John. It would be a false identity, of course; his name would be John Marshall, he'd be a construction worker, he'd play dumb grunt. Then they'd both be in, both able to gather intel, be each other's backup if it was needed.

That was supposed to be Evan's job. Evan was John's backup, not some former Wraith who had become an ally for reasons unknown, not some guy Evan didn't _trust_. But it was the plan, and come hell or some high fucking water, Evan was going to stick to it.

He shifted in the van, watching through his binocs as Michael and John strolled through the front doors of the warehouse that the Wraith were using, still registered in Ellia's name. Adam turned form his spot in the back of the van, headphones covering one ear.

"Don't worry about them," Adam said. "Neither of them can be turned." John was ATA-positive, and Michael had been given the immunization. "They're both armed, and I've got an ear on them in case John sticks his foot in his mouth." He grinned and Evan had to concede the point.

Adam was fine. Carson's retrovirus, combined with the immunization, had meant that he was only in the infirmary for three days. He had bounced right back, and after being kept off the rotation schedule for a week, had demanded to be let back into the field. John had just shrugged and added his name back in.

They sat in the van for six hours before another came to replace them. Evan nodded to Ronon, who was driving the other van, and Teyla, who was sitting in the passenger's seat. He knew that McKay would be grumbling in the back of the van, ready to take over Adam's post, listening to their wires.

Adam grinned a minute later. "McKay's in," he told Evan. "And bitching."

"Of course he is," Evan said dryly. "Means he's still alive."

Adam tapped his radio. "All right, McKay, we're headed out. Yeah, six hours. I don't know." He turned to Evan. "McKay wants to know who will be replacing him, says he wants to be sure it's someone competent."

"Tell him I'm bringing a quadroon of lobotomized baboons," Evan said seriously, starting the van. "Better yet, tell him I'm sending Cadman. He might actually believe that for a second."

Adam laughed as he relayed the message and quickly switched off his radio. "Fifteen seconds before he calls you," he bet, but Evan's phone started to ring before Adam finished speaking.

"Shut it, McKay," Evan said as he opened the phone. "I'm sending James up with her." He flipped the phone shut and tossed it back down into the console before driving away.

He hadn't mentioned that he'd be back himself with the other two. He'd spend the next few hours sleeping, and then he'd be back. John and Michael would be inside for a few days, Michael had said, so they could question him. Atlantis personnel would be nearby at all times, and Evan planned to be there himself as much as he could.

He didn't trust Michael. He would be John's backup if John needed him.

-0-

John and Michael were inside the compound for five days. By the end of it, John wanted a shower and to sleep, in that order, though only just. Of course, as he drove away from the complex with Michael, he knew that he probably wouldn't get the chance to do either before talking to Evan at length about his time with the Wraith. Sighing, he grabbed his communication stone and sent a thought towards the van following them inconspicuously.  
_  
Going home. See you shortly._  
_  
Okay,_ he heard back instantly. Then, almost hesitantly, _All good?_  
_  
Well enough,_ he decided. Evan let it drop.

They got back to Atlantis twenty minutes later. The van had beaten them back; they had broken away and gone in different directions, just in case the Wraith had sent a tail vehicle. It didn't look like they had, for which John was grateful. That meant that he'd probably passed their little testing period.

Evan was leaning against the side of the van when they pulled in. He stood when John opened the door. "How was it?"  
"Long," John said, and Michael added, "Informative."

John could see Evan's eyes brighten. "Yeah?" he said, joining them as they walked into Atlantis. "We taped everything. Radek and McKay are working through it."

"Yeah," John confirmed. "Saw some cool stuff, too. Got a feel for the layout, some numbers, some day-to-day shit." He hesitated. "Look, can I grab a shower before we do this? Apparently Wraith don't need to shower to stay all nice and slimy. I feel gross."

Evan blinked at him. "That's… disgusting," he thought aloud, nodding to Michael and John. "Feel free. An hour?"

"Sure," John said, thankfully walking back to his quarters.

Twenty minutes later, John felt human again. He was clean, wearing clean clothing, and he'd already washed what he'd been wearing nonstop for the past five days. He left the clothing in the spin cycle and headed to Evan's office. He knew that "an hour" was for Michael, and that this would give Evan time to ask about anything he wanted to without worrying about the other man.

"Hey," John greeted, dropping into the chair in Evan's office.

"So?" Evan asked.

"He's fine," John replied. "We were together pretty much the whole time, and you've got tapes from when we weren't. Nothing suspicious."  
Evan relaxed a little. "I wish we could just trust him," he said, frustrated.

"I know what you mean," John agreed, running his hands through his hair. "I want to. It would make this a lot easier, that's for sure. But I can't do it."

"Nope," Evan said. "Neither can I." He frowned. "So Wraith don't shower."

John made a face. "Nope. Not a shower in the whole warehouse. Apparently they like their grime."

"I wonder if it's more than that," Evan said thoughtfully. "Think about it. Have we ever seen them outside when it's raining? Ever seen a Wraith even take a drink?"

"What, you think they pull a Wizard of Oz, _I'm melting, I'm melting_?"

Evan shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's coincidence." They both knew what that meant. In this line of work, there was no such thing as coincidence.

They talked for fifteen minutes or so about what John had missed in Atlantis before Michael showed up. He laughed as he knocked on the door. "Thought I'd be early," he said.

John grinned at him. "If I sat in my quarters, I would've fallen asleep. Evan was telling me that he caught Rodney and Laura _not fighting_ the other day." For those two, it was as telling as if Evan had walked in on them making out, John thought. "She was helping him. Actually helping."

Michael laughed again and leaned against the wall. "So when's the wedding?"

Evan rolled his eyes. "Go grab a chair from John's office," he said, and when Michael left, he turned to John. "Anything else?"

John shook his head but took his stone out of his pocket, playing with it idly. Evan already had his in his hand, under his desk. Michael thought they were good-luck charms; if anything came up, John would be able to communicate it without Michael realizing it.

John wished they could trust him, but he knew better. He knew he couldn't. Not yet.

-0-

John and Michael had gathered a lot of good intel, a lot of things that they hadn't known before. For one, Freakshow's name really did appear to be Bob, Evan thought with a roll of his eyes. Unfortunately, they hadn't come in contact with the queen, and any attempt by either of them to get more information about her was shut down rather quickly. Evan sighed.

John was back at the warehouse now, without Michael this time, though still armed and wired. His backup vehicle was less than two blocks away, and Evan itched to be there with Ronon and Teyla, but knew that his own mission was equally important. He was tailing Michael, who had asked if he could "have a few days."

Evan had agreed, offered to get him transportation to wherever, and when Michael had declined, had put a tracker in the man's shoes and followed him at length. Michael had gone into Vegas proper, checked into a hotel, and hadn't moved from the building in nearly six hours. Evan wasn't certain that his plant hadn't been made, but the signal continued to travel around the hotel, so either Michael hadn't figured it out or he was leaving it there as a show of good faith. Either way, Evan was counting his blessings.

His cell phone chirped, and he looked down at the display and frowned. McKay.

"Lorne," he answered, automatically holding the phone a few inches from his face. Sure enough, McKay started yelling the second the phone was answered. Evan listened halfheartedly, wondering if he should interrupt the scientist's babbling – he didn't seem to be reporting anything important, just calling to bitch to Evan since John was unavailable – when he realized that Michael's transponder was moving away from him.

"McKay," he cut in. "You have a lock on that transponder you gave me?"

"Of course I do," McKay huffed.

"Can you get a visual?" Evan hadn't seen Michael leave the hotel. He started his car and pulled out, trying to spot Michael's vehicle as he neared the signal.

"There are a few cars in the picture I got," McKay said a few seconds later. "Traffic camera. I don't see Michael's in there."

"Hang on, the signal's turning," Evan said, breaking away and following the signal down a side street. It could still be one of two cars. "Can you see him _in_ any of the cars?"

"No," McKay reported. "Think he's been captured?"

Evan made a final turn behind the signal and stared into the back of the garbage truck in front of him, the only vehicle on the road. He smacked the steering wheel in frustration. "No," he said angrily. "I think he fucked us over."

Evan made his way back to the hotel in a haze. He stalked into the lobby and flashed his long-defunct military identification at the clerk, praying that the young woman wouldn't ask to inspect it closely. "Major Evan Lorne, USAF," he said in a commanding tone. "I'm looking for someone."

The young woman looked appropriately terrified. Terrified usually meant cooperative. "Someone here?"

"Oh, I hope so," Evan said grimly, reaching for the photograph of Michael that he'd had on him since this whole fiasco had started. "I think this man checked in a few hours ago. Do you recognize him?"

"Oh, yes," the girl said, flushing slightly. "Mr. Sheppard."

Of course he'd used John's name. Evan seethed as he asked, "Is he still here?"

The girl frowned. "I'm not sure," she said, clicking away at her keyboard. "He only got a room for one night, and I don't think he was planning on staying long." She looked at Evan apprehensively. "I can call up-"

"No," Evan said, and her hand hovered above the phone. "Get me a key to his room."

The girl hesitated, and Evan narrowed his eyes. She grabbed a keycard from a drawer and pushed it into a machine, which glowed and clicked. She handed it to him without looking at him and said, "Room 638."

Evan was halfway to the elevators before McKay answered. "Room 638, checked in as John," he growled, and heard McKay's responding sound of annoyance. "Can you get into the hotel's security?"

He heard tapping as he stepped into the elevator. "I'm in," Evan heard, "Let me download the last few hours and take a look."

"Send Adam and James up here," Evan said, and hung up. The elevator was opening on the sixth floor, and Evan stepped out and headed to the left. Room 638 was almost at the end of the hallway, near the emergency stairs, and Evan started a string of curses under his breath. Michael had probably planned it that way – near to an alternative exit.

Evan pressed his ear to the door and stifled his profanity as he listened. There was no sound from inside, so he quickly pulled out his sidearm, opened the door, and stepped in.

The room was neat and clean. The only evidence that it had been occupied at all was a damp towel hanging to dry in the bathroom and an addressed envelope on the desk. Evan glanced at it and saw his name. The letter inside was short.  
_  
I can't get you to trust me, and I won't go back to them. From now on, I'm working by myself._

Evan started cursing again.

-0-

John's cell phone chirped, but he ignored it in favor of he attention to the woman in front of him. She was tall and slender, with long red hair. The queen.

John was currently giving her his best charming smile. "I don't know where he is, ma'am."

The queen hissed at him. "I will have him here," she informed him angrily. "You cannot protect him."

John frowned. "Protect him? Trust me, ma'am, I wouldn't protect him from much of anything. I've told your guys; I don't know him all that well. He was just a way in, just some guy I met in a bar who told me these stories about being.. more than human. Super-human. I was interested, he told me he could help me out, and here I am." He hoped his lies were convincing.

Apparently they were enough. "This has what has been relayed to me," she said. "But if you know where he is and you do not tell me, I will not hesitate to kill you instead of giving you what you want."

John was mentally calculating in his mind. Michael had obviously done something to piss off the queen, whose name he still hadn't managed to get from the others and which she hadn't offered when she'd stormed in, and she was now looking for the other man. He decided to go with the truth, or part of it, anyway "He told me he was taking off for a few days. Didn't say where, or when he'd be back." He shrugged. "I'll tell him you're looking for him if he calls."

The queen's eyes narrowed. "No," she said, stepping forward and giving him a smile. She put her hand over his heart and it was all John could do not to shudder and back away. "I will give you what you want if you turn him in to me."

John smirked down at her. "I'll give you what _you_ want, if I can."

"Bring him here," she said, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. John hoped she took the shiver that ran through him as desire rather than disgust. "Bring him to me, and I will turn you."

John left the complex not long after, swearing up and down hat he'd search for Michael and lure him back to the compound. He took out his cell phone and glanced at the screen as he drove away. Four missed calls from Evan in the past hour.

Shit. Something was wrong.

"Jesus fuck, Sheppard," Evan's voice came over the phone, part annoyance and part relief. "I was ready to leave Adam and James here to come rescue your sorry ass."

"Cadman was listening in," John pointed out. "What's up?"

"Michael's gone," Evan said. "I followed him to a hotel in Vegas and he gave us the slip. Left a letter that I can sum up as 'fuck everyone,' tossed his shoes in the garbage, and walked out under our noses."

"Shit," John breathed. He must have taken something from the Wraith, he realized. "The queen's looking for him, says she'll turn me if I bring him in."

"McKay's looking for him," Evan reported. If anyone could find the man, it would be Rodney. "Says we should give him a day, tops. I told him we'd appreciate whatever he could give us."

"Did you now?" John asked dryly, pulling into Atlantis' garage.

"Might have been phrased a little differently," Evan admitted. "Um, and you might want to talk to him before I get back. In fact, I'd appreciate it."  
John laughed. "I'll do that."

"We'll be here for a little while," Evan said as John walked into the complex. "Adam's doing some computer thing and James is doing… something else entirely. They assure me it's going to help."

"I'll tell Cadman to keep dinner warm," John promised as he hung up.

He got to the lab area an hour later. Rodney was in his element – that is, he was working on three computers and a datapad simultaneously while yelling at Zelenka for something John couldn't understand. "Rodney."

Rodney didn't even look up as he switched his tirade from something about ionized particle theory to Evan. "Your partner in idiocy is an inconsiderate asshole, Sheppard."

"Hey, I survived the Wraith queen all by myself," he replied brightly, ignoring Rodney's outburst. "Thanks for asking, though."

Rodney nearly dropped his datapad. "You met with the queen? What did you find out?"

"I think Michael took something from them before he went down the rabbit hole," John said seriously, taking a seat on one of the stools in the lab. "She was pretty insistent that I find him and bring him in. Said she'd 'give me what I wanted' if I did."

"I sense air quotes in there," Rodney said, picking the datapad back up. "I can't believe you talked to her alone."

John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Rodney, I purposely waited until after Michael decided to drop-kick us to meet with her."

Rodney sniffed. "Sarcasm doesn't become you."

"Sure it does." John retorted. "So, what did Evan do?"

Rodney's eyes narrowed. "He's making demands that are, by any standards, impossible to meet."

"You're good at impossible," John pointed out. "He's just stressed out. Give him a break."

"He swore at me in other languages." Rodney turned from the datapad to one of the computers, frowned, and changed something in a spreadsheet. "Zelenka overheard part of it and blushed. Blushed!"

Radek piped up from the other side of the room. "He has learned more words that I did not teach him. Some of them are… colorful."

"Colorful," Rodney repeated. "Apparently."

"So you're pissed at him because he cursed at you when you told him you couldn't do what he wanted?" John clarified.

"I can _do_ it," Rodney snapped. "I just don't have the ability to do it in the timeframe he's laid out. I may be a genius, but the technology only goes so fast, and I cannot possibly watch fifteen hours of video in six hours!"

John shook his head. "If anyone could, Rodney it would be you. Barring that, though," he added quickly, seeing the ire rise in his friend's eyes, "stream the video to my machine upstairs. It should free you up to do some of the rest of it, right?"

Rodney nodded and tapped at one of the computers. "I hope you find something," he muttered as John rose to leave. "Because Lorne didn't sound happy when I told him there might not be anything there."

-0-

The only trace they'd found of Michael Kenmore was a glance of him walking into the emergency stairs about an hour after he'd arrived. He'd stopped in the doorway, sent a little wave to the camera, and disappeared. McKay had accessed all of the security cameras from the rest of the building, but none had revealed him leaving.

"There are plenty of other ways he could've gotten out," John said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Evan nodded along; they'd already had this conversation. "Maid cart, trash truck, caterer, disguise.."

"Blending in, knowing where the cameras are," Evan filled in as John took a breath. "For all we know he could still be in the building."

"I doubt it," John said. "Rodney set the fire alarms off remotely two days ago, and the fire department cleared the building before they let anyone back in. We monitored everyone going in and out. If he's still in that building, he's holed up well enough that we'll never find him."

Evan shook his head. "I don't think he's still at the hotel," he said. "I was just putting it out there."

"Yeah," John replied. "He could be anywhere."

"Yeah," Evan agreed. "He really could be."

They sat in silence, trying to come up with some sort of plan, anything they could use to get Michael back. It had been two weeks since Evan found the letter and John talked to the queen. Two weeks, and they'd found no trace of the man. John had broken down and called O'Neill three days ago, and he'd put some of the SGC resources on it, but they'd heard nothing so far.

It seemed like they never would.

Evan rubbed the bridge of his nose. This fucking sucked. The man was both a security risk and a valuable asset. He'd claimed that he wouldn't go back to the Wraith, but Evan wasn't sure he believed it; if he was angry enough to walk away from Atlantis, he might be angry enough to join up again for revenge. He didn't however, think that Michael had given John away.

John had been back to the warehouse five times since Michael disappeared, and had met three more times with the queen. He'd hemmed and hawed his way through the meetings, saying that he hadn't heard from Michael, that he'd tried looking for him, that he didn't know him all that well, that Michael hadn't been in touch. None of it was a lie, but neither was it the whole truth, and Evan was afraid John would be caught up in it. However, if Michael had given John up as an infiltrator, the Wraith would not have hesitated to kill him.

Evan supposed he should be grateful for small miracles, that Michael had been trustworthy enough – or _human_ enough – not to sell John out the first chance he got.

He honestly didn't expect he'd ever see Michael again. It was, therefore, a shock when he walked into the gas station a month after the man disappeared and saw him leaning against the drink counter, looking for all the world like he'd been waiting there since he left Atlantis.

Michael saw him enter the store and watched casually as Evan walked up to him. "Evan."

"Michael," he replied evenly. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"Here and there," Michael said. "When I said 'a few days,' I guess I meant 'more than a few.'"

"I had noticed," Evan replied dryly. "You dropped off the radar. We couldn't find you. The SGC couldn't find you."

"I'm good at hiding."

"Apparently," Evan commented. "Any reason you're back?"

Michael hesitated. "I didn't tell them anything."

"John's still alive, so we figured you didn't." Evan waited a beat before adding, "They know you took something, though. What is it?"

Now Michael winced. "Not a thing, per se. I may have… borrowed… some information."

"About?" Evan pressed.

"Another cell. East. Texas."

"You've been in Texas for a month?" Evan was surprised. Of all the places on the grand list of vacation spots, hunting down Wraith in Texas was somewhere between 'dumpster diving' and 'shopping at a flea market.' Evan was fond of neither.

"Travelled around the state, yeah," Michael said. "It's easy to find new shoes there."

Evan winced. "Sorry about that."

"The thing is," Michael continued, "if you had just trusted me, I would've stayed."

"I'm sorry," Evan apologized again.

There was a moment's pause before Michael continued. "Anyway, I'm not staying in town. I wanted to let you guys know, though, that there's a group in Abilene that you should get in touch with. They're kind of like Atlantis, doing the renegade thing, except without the retrovirus or the gene therapy."

"Suicide," Evan muttered, and Michael nodded.

"They've got some tech that McKay would love to get his hands on, though. You could probably trade some of your meds research for some of their toys." He handed Evan a card with a name and number on it. "Give them my name when you call. They're expecting to hear from you."

Evan took the card and made a mental note to have McKay check it out before he showed it to John. "Where are you headed?" he asked as they walked to the door. Michael shrugged.

"I've got a few leads," he said noncommittally. "I'd… I'm out of ATA boosters."

"How long?" Evan asked immediately.

"A week, give or take."

Evan nodded. "Will you come back, or should I call Carson?"

Michael laughed. "I'll just come back. I've still got stuff there, unless you've tossed it."

"Boxed and ready for you," Evan remarked. "It's almost like we knew."

-0-

They sent Michael on his way with all of his belongings, a fresh batch of the gene therapy, and a few vials of the retrovirus. He was, apparently, a one-man renegade Wraith hunter. John had also slipped him an untraceable cell phone in case of emergencies.

He didn't expect that Michael would ever use it, and as the weeks dragged on, it appeared that he was right. Michael didn't call.

John spent his time gathering more information in the cell. Bob in particular seemed pleased with John, with the services he provided to the cell, which were mostly through physical labor. John's cover as a construction worker was believed, and the Wraith had set him to finishing up some modifications to the inside of the larger warehouse that they occupied, building rooms and tearing down the walls of others.

"Doing well," Bob told him one day. John had realized early on that Bob wasn't all that smart, and that he clearly didn't remember John from their combined time with Irina. John supposed that he looked different wearing clothing and not strapped to a chair, and that Bob had expected him to either turn or die, neither of which had happened.

"Thanks," John responded. "I'll be back in three days. I can get some more drywall, finish the upstairs section."  
Bob nodded. "She'll want to see you."

John nodded. "She" was the still-unnamed queen. "She" seemed to have some sort of interest in John, and while it was more than a little unnerving, John figured it could be used to his advantage. If she got interested enough, she might spill things. On the other hand, though, if she got too interested, she could try to turn him ,and then it would all go to hell in a handbasket.

"You hear from Michael?" Bob asked in his most casual tone. Since Bob sucked at human emotions and inclinations, this was about as subtle as a train hitting a wall. John shrugged.

"Don't think he's coming back. I checked with his landlord. He didn't pay his rent, and the guy boxed up all Michael's shit, told me I could have it if I wanted it, otherwise he was gonna donate it," he lied easily. "I told him to pitch it. I don't need more shit at my place."

Bob nodded. "Tell her when you talk to her."

John nodded, and Bob left the room.

Three days later, he was tacking drywall to a frame on the top floor of the warehouse when she entered. "You have not heard from Michael."  
John stopped what he was doing and turned to face her. "No, ma'am."

She waved a hand at him. "Continue your work. You have spoken to the owner of his property?"

"His landlord, yeah," John replied, returning to the wall.

"The man has packaged Michael's things up."

"Yeah," John repeated. Bob had clearly spoken to her.

"Pick them up from him and bring them here," she commanded, and John turned around to look her in the eyes, nail gun in hand.

"I'll call him," John said with a shrug, "but I don't know if he still has the stuff. I told him to toss it last time I talked to him."

The queen's eyes narrowed. "Why would you tell him that?"

"I didn't know you'd want it," John pointed out. "I sure as hell didn't, and it sounded to me like he was gonna try to make me take it."

"You know he has stolen from us."

"To be honest, ma'am," John replied, scratching his head and playing stupid, "I'd kind of forgotten."

The corner of her lip curled into a sneer. "Bring his things when you come. Track them down if you must. Report back within a week with your progress."

"Yes, ma'am," John replied, turning back to his work.

-0-

"You have a week to come up with Michael's stuff?"

John scowled. "Yeah."

Evan sighed. "Because you told her Michael's landlord had boxed it up and given it away."

"Pretty much." John hesitated. "Look, Evan, I didn't realize she'd want it when I said that. It was just something else to show that he wasn't coming back, you know?"

Evan held up a hand. "I know. But this could be the beginning of the end of this. We have to figure out how to get some stuff that could reasonably be Michael's." Evan thought there might still be a few shirts of his, maybe a pair of jeans that had been left if the wash, but he doubted that's what the queen was looking for.

"Yeah," John agreed. "She's going to want proof of the information he took."

And that, Evan knew, was both the point and the problem. They had the information that she wanted – a phone number and a name on a card that Michael had slipped him. There was just no way in hell that they were giving that kind of intel to the cell.

They'd been in contact with the others the week before . Michael was right; they'd been able to trade technology for medical knowledge. McKay was happily tinkering with some sort of gun that the cell had sent up. It was a weird-looking thing with a weirder sounding name, but true to the word of the group that had sent it, one shot stunned the victim, a second killed them, and a third destroyed the body. McKay was practically giddy with the chance to examine it.

"We can't lead them down there," Evan pointed out.

John hesitated. "Maybe we can… mislead them."

"How so?"

"Look, we know the cell isn't sure exactly what Michael took, right?" Reasonably sure, at least, but Evan nodded anyway. "So we give them the clothes, throw a few other random things in the box, and stick in a piece of paper with an address somewhere in Chicago."

Chicago. There were bound to be Wraith there, just not enough that it had drawn attention, at least not yet. "Where in Chicago?"

John shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Somewhere abandoned. But they'll start looking for him up there, and when it doesn't turn anything up I can just play dumb and say that's all I was able to track down, sorry."

"So this is a plan based entirely on your ability to act?"

John glared at him. "That's what it's been all along," he reminded Evan. "So far, so good."

Evan closed his eyes and mulled it over. It could work, but it had about a fifty-fifty shot of going horribly wrong. They'd gone with worse odds.  
"Can you get in touch with Michael, make sure he's nowhere near Chicago?" Evan asked, eyes still closed.

"Yeah."

Evan nodded. "Okay."

John left the room, dialing his cell phone, and Evan heard his voice in the hall, speaking in short, clipped sentences. He turned to his computer and started looking for a place they could use as an address in Chicago. He found a few promising spots and looked up as John came back in the room.

"He says he's nowhere near Chicago," John confirmed. "Thanked us for sending the Wraith on a wild goose chase."

"Anything to piss them off in the long run," Evan said generously. He pointed to his screen and John walked around behind him, looking over his shoulder. "Found a few places."

John studied the listings and shrugged. "Which is the least likely to have collateral damage if it gets blown up?"

Evan wondered what it said about his life that he'd already considered the question and come up with an answer. "This one," he said, tapping the screen.

John nodded. "Looks good to me."

Evan wrote the address on a slip of paper as John left the room; she'd seen both Michael's and John's handwriting, but not Evan's. Evan figured she'd assume this information had been passed to Michael after he'd used whatever information he'd stolen from the cell. He frowned down at the paper after he'd written it, considering the future and the likelihood that he'd have to do something like this again, and rewrote the information, making his handwriting longer and loopier, again and again, until it no longer resembled his own.

John returned with a box as Evan was finishing up. Evan glanced inside; John had tossed in the clothing they'd found, a few CDs, a book, and what appeared to be a saltshaker. Evan raised an eyebrow at the selection.

"I went for random," John said cheerily, setting the box on Evan's desk. "Figured if I was going for the 'I tracked this shit down' route, I would have found some weird stuff. So," he gestured to the box, "I put in weird stuff."

Evan pulled the book from the box and opened it to a random page. He folded the slip of paper with the address written on it and stuck it in. It looked like a bookmark. He had no doubt that the queen would find it.

"She said a week?"

"'Within a week.' Exact quote."

Evan nodded. "Four days, then?"

John grinned back. "Works for me."

-0-

John checked his stunner one more time as he loaded the box into his car. Rodney swore up and down that it worked, that it was fine, that it was a brilliant piece of technology, and John had tuned out the rest of the babble that Rodney had used as he got into the mechanical aspects of the gun. John had practiced with it a few times, aiming it at paper targets in their makeshift firing range, and was reasonably satisfied that, if it didn't work as advertised, it at least seemed to incinerate things pretty well.

John drove the short distance from Atlantis to the Wraith base. Though he'd been confident when Evan had asked him for the hundredth time if he thought he could pull this off, he now found himself running through the million ways it could go wrong at the drop of a hat. John grimaced at his own internal line of thought and tried to think instead of his mission for the day: get there, drop the box off, finish the last of the drywall installation. He parked down the road and retrieved the box, checking that his stunner was secured in its holster against his back. He knew he had fifteen minutes before his backup would be in place; they staggered the arrival times of the van, trying not to arouse suspicion. John picked the box up and walked to the warehouse.

He could tell something was off the second he stepped in the door. She was standing there, alone, a tiny, victorious smile on her face. "John."

"Ma'am," he greeted, setting the box down. "Spent the last few days chasing Michael's shit around town. I didn't find much, but I'll keep looking if you want me to."

The queen looked into the box, her eyes narrowing as she took in the items. She didn't reach in, didn't seem to take any special interest in any of the items, and John suddenly felt a flare of adrenaline without quite knowing why. She looked up at him thoughtfully and took a step towards him. John fought to stay in place.

"John," she said, and her voice was somewhere between a purr and a hiss. "There is a matter that bears discussion."

"Something I can do for you, ma'am?" John asked, going for eager-to-please but not quite sure he made it. She laughed.

"I believe there is much you can do for me," she said in the same tone of voice. "Colonel Sheppard."

John froze for about half a second before he was running out the door, thinking _fuck fuck fuck_ the whole time. He managed to grab at his stunner as he ran, not sure where he was headed except _away_, and he turned and fired off a wild shot at the woman who was now chasing him. It missed by a mile, and she merely laughed as she ran after him.

John had seen the Wraith in action before, knew about their physical strength and dexterity. He knew that she could catch him in a few long strides if she wanted, but she seemed content to let him run away, at least for now. John zigzagged through the streets, heading for some sort of civilization, somewhere that he might get help.

He turned and fired again, missed again, and when he turned back around he had veered slightly and was headed into a lamp post. He jerked sharply and avoided hitting it with his body, but slammed into it with his right hand, which reflexively dropped his stunner. John kept running. It wasn't worth trying to retrieve it now.

He went on, trying to come up with options that didn't include torture and death. He also thought, in the back of his head, that if he survived this, Evan was going to be _pissed._

He kept running.


End file.
